


Eight More Minutes

by chattrekisses



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adorable, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Cute, Cutesy, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gay, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Light Angst, Love, Love Confessions, Love Letters, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 07:23:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12882936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chattrekisses/pseuds/chattrekisses
Summary: Eddie keeps receiving anonymous love letters. As confused and intrigued as he is, he doesn't really feel like he deserves them. Richie thinks Eddie deserves the world.Obviously, the love letters are from Richie.And he wants to tell Eddie, he does. Every day that passes, Eddie gets more and more sad about the letters that appear in his locker. But Richie's scared. Scared of what Eddie might think of him when he finds out who the letters are from. Scared of what might happen. Scared of how much he loves Eddie.Love is harder than it's supposed to be.





	Eight More Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I hope you enjoy yet another Reddie oneshot! If you do, let me know with a comment or kudos or by checking out one of my other stories!  
> Love you all, and I hope you like it!

“What’s that, Eddie Spaghetti?” Richie asked, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he approached the smaller boy.

“N-nothing!” Eddie stuttered, shoving a folded piece of paper into his locker.

“I thought stuttering was Bill’s thing,” Richie joked, trying to reach around Eddie. “What is it you’re hiding?”

“Nothing!” Eddie shouted.

Richie grinned. “Bullshit, Eds,” His fingers found the paper in Eddie’s locker and he pulled it out triumphantly. “What’s this? Does little darlin’ Spaghetti Head have a secret admirer?”

“Fuck _off_ , Tozier!” Eddie yelled, trying to grab the paper back from Richie. “Give it back!”

Richie unfolded the paper, holding it above Eddie’s head so he couldn’t reach it, and read aloud, “ _‘You look cute when you smile. I like your stupid fanny pack.’_ ” Richie cooed at the message. “That’s fucking adorable, Eds! Do you know who wrote it?”

Eddie frowned and shook his head. “Not a clue. It’s been happening for a while though.”

“Really?” Richie asked, dragging the pad of his finger across the neat, slightly raised script. “How long?”

“Every day for the last two months,” Eddie admitted.

“Shit, that’s dedication. They must really like you, Eds,” Richie said, handing the note back to Eddie, who put it back in his locker.

Eddie didn’t respond to the comment, only looked to the watch on his wrist. “Fuck, I’m gonna be late to English. See you late, Trashmouth,” Eddie said, turning around and hurrying away to class, books bouncing in his arms.

Richie watched him go longingly, closing Eddie’s locker for him. He wondered if Eddie would ever realize that the notes were from him.

He wondered if it even mattered.

  


It’s not like Richie had planned on falling head-over-heels for his asthmatic best friend. It was something that just _happened_ — like the sun rising or parents being shitholes. For Richie, falling in love was like your eyes finally adjusting to the dark. You knew the entire time that it was dark, but you couldn’t really see it until, magically, you could. Falling in love was simultaneously slow and all-at-once.

Richie had realized he loved Eddie when they were at the quarry together with the rest of their rag-tag gang of Losers. Richie was smoking with Beverly, sitting on the lip of the cliff, their legs dangling off of the side when Eddie had come stomping over. He grabbed the cigarette from Richie’s lips and threw it into the water below.

“What the fuck, Eds? I was smoking that!” Richie protested.

“Someday, Richie, you’re gonna call me up and tell me that you have lung cancer, and I’m gonna fucking laugh and say I told you so.” Eddie said, hands on his hips.

“Eds—”

“Did you know that every cigarette you smoke takes eight minutes off of your life?” He asked.

“I think you’ll kill me before the cigarettes do, Eddie Spaghetti.”

Eddie let out a huff of annoyance. “You shouldn’t smoke, Richie. You really shouldn’t.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Richie replied, sarcasm dripping in his tone. His lips fumbled for something to grip onto, but there was only empty air. Whenever he had nothing between his lips he missed the feeling, the grounding sensation a cigarette provided him. “How come Ringwald escapes your sage wisdom?”

Beverly grinned and blew a ring of smoke into Richie’s face. He wrinkled his nose and batted it away, towards Eddie, who coughed. “Eddie’s stuck with you forever, Richie. He wants you of lily-lungs so you can frolic in the sunset forever. Me, I’m just a fun, friendly pastime.” Beverly giggled up at Eddie, running a hand through her hair. The red of it almost perfectly matched the red of the cherry of her cigarette in the dying sunlight.

Eddie turned red and frowned. “I’m just trying to look out for him,” He said cautiously. Then he added, “You shouldn’t smoke either, Bev. I’m sure Ben doesn’t appreciate making out with an ashtray.”

Beverly stuck her tongue out at Eddie as he pivoted and walked away towards the other Losers. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her pack of smokes, offering a new one to Richie. He waved it away with an indecipherable expression.

Beverly raised an eyebrow. “Really?” She asked.

“Really,” Richie said. He looked after Eddie, eyes lingering on the delicate small of his back as he approached the rest of the Losers. ‘Forever’ was echoing in Richie’s head. He liked the sound of it. Being with Eddie forever. It sounded perfect, actually. Like a fairytale. And then he noticed how his heart was beating too fast, and his face was heating up. “Eight more minutes,” He said to Beverly. “Gotta have eight more minutes with my Eds.”

Beverly snorted and took a drag. “Okay, lover boy.”

Richie couldn’t even protest. Love. it was love, and it had been for a while, Richie just hadn’t realized it. His eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dark yet.

“Eight more minutes,” He muttered, turning to look out at the crags of the quarry below.

  
  


After he realized he was in love with Eddie, it became increasingly hard for Richie to hide it. Every time he saw Eddie, he had to resist the urge to confess his undying love.

Miraculously, Richie came up with a solution that was actually kind of clever and completely cliche. Notes, really well-written ones that hid his handwriting. He could tell Eddie exactly how adorable and amazing he found him without Eddie finding out who he was.

It was a perfect solution.

  
  


“What’s it say this time, Eds?” Richie asked, coming up behind Eddie and slinging an arm around his shoulder.

“ _‘You have a really cute sneeze.’_ ” Eddie read.

“Hmm. I’m going to have to disagree, your sneeze sounds like a dying goose,” Richie said.

Eddie elbowed him. “You’re an ass, Richie.”

“And, I _have_ a good ass,” Richie grinned crookedly.

“You’re insufferable, Richie Tozier,” Eddie snorted.

“Thanks,” Richie replied. “Hey, you ever wonder who’s sending you these, Eds?” Richie asked, eyeing Eddie carefully.

Eddie shrugged. “I don’t know, sometimes. Obviously they don’t know me well though.”

“What? Why?”

Eddie shrugged. “Because they like me.”

Richie’s eyebrows furrowed. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I mean… look at me, Rich. Why would anyone like me? I’m a grumpy asthmatic germaphobe who wears a fanny pack. I’m not exactly drool-worthy,” Eddie said, voice muted and trembling slightly, almost in shame.

Richie unwound his arm from around Eddie, then grasped his shoulders and forced Eddie to look up at him. “Eds, are you hearing yourself?”

“I’m not deaf, Richie,” Eddie deadpanned.

“Eddie, you are fuckign perfect,” Richie breathed, forgetting his mantra of _don’t let him know you’re in love with him._ “You’re cute and funny and sassy and smart and adorable and you have a fucking foul mouth and it’s perfect and you’re perfect, okay?”

Eddie offered Richie a small smile, blushing lightly. “Thanks, Richie.”

Richie froze. Damn, Eddie was cute. Too cute. His heart hurt in his chest.

“You know Eds,” Richie babbled, looping his arm back around Eddie’s shoulder. “If I was gay, I’d go for you. But as it is, your mom has my heart and soul—”

“Beep-beep, Richie!” Eddie said, blushing harder.

“And dick—”

“Richie!”

  
  


It had been three months now and Richie finally felt like he was ready to come clean and tell Eddie who his secret admirer really was.

Every day that passed, Eddie became more and more openly conflicted about the love letters he received. Some days he’d be ecstatic and blushingly show the notes to Richie and the other Losers. Other days he’d be sad and distant about them, reading them and smiling softly, then frowning and packing them up in the box he kept in his locker specifically for that purpose. It seemed like Eddie didn’t feel like he deserved it, which Richie found ridiculous.

He needed to Eddie for real. He needed Eddie to know that somebody loved him, really loved him, not because they had too, but because they wanted to.

Richie left the note in Eddie’s locker on a Friday afternoon. Instead of singing Eddie’s praises like usual, it said:

_Can we meet? Leave me a response on a piece of paper in the knoll of the tree in front of the library._

When Eddie opened his locker and read the note that day, he grinned so hard Richie was afraid he might break. He lit up like a star, and Richie almost walked up to him and confessed, right then and there.

But Richie waited. He had to be smart about this, he didn’t want Eddie freaking out about his best friend being completely in love with him.

Who was Richie kidding, of course Eddie was going to freak out. Richie just hoped it would be a good freak out, not a bad homophobic one.

Hopefully.

Richie watched as Eddie held the letter to his heart. God, Richie loved him.

Richie found Eddie’s response in the knoll of the tree later that day. It said only:

_8 o’clock. The Barrens. See you soon._

The hours crept by until it was almost dusky, and Richie had already been waiting in the clearing of the Barrens where the Losers always hung out since 6:30. He couldn’t even claim to boredom, he had been so buzzed on adrenaline the whole time. He rolled an unlit cigarette between his teeth, tucked it behind his ear. He whistled to keep his lips busy— he didn’t like not talking for so long, and he had swore off of cigarettes as best he could. Every time he smoked one, all he heard was _eight more minutes_. He checked his watch constantly and he couldn’t stop pacing.

In short, he was absolutely terrified. Terrified of being so vulnerable, so open and honest; terrified to tell Eddie the truth. Terrified of what Eddie might think of him because of his inconvenient love.

At 8 o’clock precisely, Richie heard footfalls approaching him. Panicking, he turned in a frantic circle and then dove into the line of trees around the clearing, effectively hiding himself as Eddie entered the expanse of land.

Richie felt like he was petrified. Eddie looked so excited, so happy, and Richie felt like he was going to throw up. He couldn’t move. Horrified, he watched as Eddie’s hopeful expression slipped into something much sadder and darker. Richie’s heart burned in his chest as he watched Eddie sniff and begin to cry.

“Shit,” Eddie muttered, wiping frantically at his eyes. He sucked in a deep breath, then pulled out his inhaler and took a hit. “Shit,” He muttered again.

Richie wanted to scream, run to Eddie, do _something_ , but he felt like he was cemented to the ground in fear.

Eddie left at 9:30, crying quietly. As soon as he was out of eyesight, Richie emerged from the trees and fell to the ground in the middle of the clearing in defeat.

As he rolled pathetically in the dirt and grime, he cried too, because he knew that he had ruined everything. He had lost it all because he was just too scared.

He was a disaster.

  
  


_I was so scared, Eddie._

  
  


“You okay, Richie? You’ve been acting really weird.”

“You’ve been pretty different yourself, Eds. Almost… sadder. Did something happen?”

“Life sucks ass, Richie, and love is worse.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that.

  
  


_Forgive me._

  
  


“Hey Eds?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Why should you be?”

  
  


_I think I’m in love with you._

  
  


“I don’t know. Sorry in general.”

“Well… okay. Thanks Richie.”

  
  


_No, I know. I know I’m in love with you._

  
  


“I just want you to be happy, Eddie.”

“I want you to be happy too, Rich.”

  
  


_I would do anything for just eight minutes of you knowing who I am._

  
  


“It’s different though, happy’s uh… it’s in my blood. Something’s making you feel really sad, Eddie Spaghetti. Let me fix it.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, RIchie. I know I’m broken, but you are too.”

“Damaged goods, eh?”

“Still goods all the same.”

  
  


_I love you._

  
  


The locker slammed shut, and Eddie emerged with his box of letters. Richie’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “What’s going on, Eds?”

Eddie drew in a breath. “Help me throw them away,” Eddie said, gripping the box tightly.

“What?” asked Richie. “Why?”

“They’re a joke, Richie. It’s just a prank. I was supposed to meet with them, but they never showed up. They keep trying to make excuses and… god, Richie. I’m so tired, so done. If they don’t want to tell me who they are, then I need to move on.”

“Wait, Eds, hold on,” Richie said, eyeing the box protectively. “Someone spent a lot of time and heart on those. They really care about you, Eds.”

“Oh, come on Richie. I’m not naive. It’s just a joke someone’s playing on me. No one likes me, no one’s in love with _me_. And if they were, then they would have told me already,” Eddie said. His voice was flippant, but it was saturated with pain and sadness. Richie hated that he couldn’t even garner the strength to try to fix it.

Eddie approached the trash can but Richie stepped in front of him. “Think about what you’re doing, Eddie Spaghetti—”

“I have, Richie,” Eddie said, frustrated. “I need to move on.”

“Eds—”

“Move out of the way, Richie! You’re supposed to be _helping_ me do this!”

“Come on, Eddie—”

“Oh my _god_ , Richie, why do you care so goddamn much about these stupid love letters?”

“Because I wrote them, dumbass!” Richie shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. He felt the terror bleed into his veins at the admission, but he ignored the sensation. “Because I wrote them.”

Eddie looked positively shattered. He was as pale as snow and was shaking slightly when he responded. “What?”

“I wrote them,” Richie admitted quietly.

“You… you complete asss!” Eddie screamed, dropping the box to the ground, It sprayed love letters across the ground in protest. “How could you? Do you know how much these fucking meant to me? I cannot believe you would pull this shit, Tozier!”

“Eds—” Richie began to protest, but Eddie cut him off.

“No, you dickwad! Why would you do that?” Eddie pushed Richie, then fisted him hands in the fabric of Richie’s shirt. He looke dup into Richie’s eyes, pleading for an answer. “Why would… why would you do that?”

“Eds…” Richie said shakily.

“Don’t call me that, you don’t get to call me that,” Eddie snapped. “I’m unbelievably angry at you.”

“I never lied,” Richie whispered. “I… I’m in love with you.” He felt like he might start crying.

“What?”

“I love you,” Richie admitted, louder this time, his eyes squeezed shut and his heart in his throat.

“You’re so stupid, Richie,” Eddie muttered almost reverently.

Richie’s eyes shot open. “Now that’s just rude. You’re ruining my dramatic love confession, Eds—” He was cut off by Eddie pulling him down by the collar and sealing their lips together.

Richie squeaked in shock before kissing back, threading his fingers through Eddie’s hair and drawing the smaller boy closer.  Eddie’s lips were soft and he tasted like sugar. That moment, that distilled second in time was everything Richie had dreamed of and more.

They broke apart to breath, and Eddie released his grip on Richie’s now crinkled shirt.

“What was that for?” Richie asked.

“I wanted it to be you, dumbass,” Eddie panted. “I love you too. Obviously.”

Richie felt his heart swell in his chest. “I knew that, obviously,” He babbled.

Eddie threw his head back and laughed, and Richie knew that he would never be happier than that moment. “You’re full of shit, Tozier.”

“But you love it,” Richie grinned, pressing a kiss to the tip of Eddie’s nose. “And I love you,” Eddie crinkled his nose at the touch.

Eddie reached forward and stole the cigarette from behind Richie’s ear, frowning at it. “Prove it.”

“What?”

“Prove it. That you love you,” Eddie explained, discarding the cigarette with a grimace. “You have eight minutes.”

Richie grinned. “God, I love you. I’ll quit smoking, I promise.”

“I know. I’m not Ben, I won’t make out with an ashtray, no matter how much I love it,” Eddie said. “But right now, you’re gonna prove you love me. Come on, Tozier. Time’s ticking down. Eight minutes.”

Richie scooped Eddie into his arms and slammed him against the lockers, kissing him deeply.

He would make every last minute count.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it, and let me know if you did! Check out my other Reddie fics, Cruel to be Kind, What's My Name, and Open Doors!  
> Kisses,  
> Chattre


End file.
